


Idiolect

by lazlong



Series: Simple [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: 301, AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazlong/pseuds/lazlong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know him. I know him better than he does himself.<br/>I know me. Barely, but I do. <br/>I know us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idiolect

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, except vague attempt at plot.  
> TIMELINE: 301, infamous party, guest arrival and interaction are re-arranged to suit my nefarious purposes  
> A/N Feedback loved and welcomed.

**Definition of IDIOLECT: the language or speech pattern of one individual at a particular period of life. © Merriam-Webster dictionary**

_They are like iron and magnet, drawing each other closer, until the moment it is not possible to hold back, not for them._

_Circulating the home, ditching others, sub/consciously searching each other, impatient, faking politeness or indifference, whatever suits best to get rid of interfering obstacles.. ahem.. guests.._

_Turn of head, while looking at Mel and Mel only, it is “hi, there”, shrug of shoulders means “I am ready to talk this shit”,  slightly raised chin, while looking at Debbie is “I am, whenever you are”._

Back of my neck is prickling. Electricity is dancing over hands.

Door opens, and it is without doubt, who is here.

When I hear the lock to turn, I know who is here, and what outcome he desires.

He comes. Stands. Doesn’t speak. Just stands.

Just stands behind me, and I am sinking into him, while holding still.

_I know him. I know him better than he does himself._ I know what he wants: to ravish me. To mark me for himself and every single guest outside, as his. Most important thing – to mark me, for me, as his. But he holds back. He doesn’t move. He barely breathes, frozen in moment, afraid to spook me, afraid to have misread me, to move before I am ready, to be rebuffed.

_I know me. Barely, but I do._ I want to fall on my knees, I want to lean back, and I want everything. But I hold myself, afraid to move too quickly, too fast.

_I know us._ Words are not fitting, not now, not here, not yet. At some point, there will be words, few at first, then more, and then, as meandering torrent, there will be a waterfall.

But now, right now, the harm was done by actions, and it should be repaired by actions and actions alone.

Heartbeat follows heartbeat, and distant laughter and voices can be heard. I take my courage and move. A fraction of millimeter, but I move closer. Tip my head back by another fraction of millimeter. Small, miniscule, tiny, but this _is_ surrender.

I doubt anybody would be able to notice it, except him, but in this incandesce atmosphere something has changed and I know that he recognized it for whatever it was: an apology, first step back and plea to go on. He moves as well. Tiny bit, a little, just a mirage of movement of mine.

I know, we look frozen in time, and silly. But we are speaking, for first time in months, in the only way we know how – with our bodies. In the only language we both are fluent, in the only language in which we do not deceive each other, in the only language that is ours only.

This will be either make it or break it, and I am.. we are determined for the first.


End file.
